Joys Of Motherhood, Or Not
by solista
Summary: What was the real reason Maria left a husband a way of life and took the heart of Murdoch Lancer


Joys of Motherhood,

Or Not

Depression

de·pres·sion

1. sadness: a state of unhappiness and hopelessness

2. psychiatric disorder: a psychiatric disorder showing symptoms such as persistent feelings of hopelessness, dejection, poor concentration, lack of energy, inability to sleep, and, sometimes, suicidal tendencies

Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

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Doctor Samuel Jenkins of Green River, California took his spectacles off the bridge of his nose. Leaning on his elbows at his small desk, he placed two fingers and ran them up and down his nose. Part from fatigue and part from despair, he was at a loss as to how help his Lancer's young wife, just barely twenty years old, was not 'bouncing back' from her grueling almost eight-hour childbirth.

It had been a month and the woman was not acting right. He had seen it before, but it was explained away 'new mother syndrome' was what he had been taught.

Tapping a finger to the medical journal he had been reading, he may have hit the problem on the proverbial head.

The article about depression was exactly how it described Maria Lancer.

Placing his glasses on top of the journal the lanky doctor pushed back from his desk and stood.

Hands to his lower back he stretched then leaned down to pick up his coffee cup, taking a sip he grimaced, cold!

Turning, he walked across the small room he called his study and entered the smaller room he called his kitchen.

Pouring out his cold coffee into the sink, he took three steps to his small cast iron stove, picked up the coffee pot and poured the hot brew into the cup.

Walking and sipping his coffee, he wandered into his 'study' once more. Sitting in the chair, one more sip of his hot coffee, he placed the cup to the side.

Placing the glasses back on his nose, he leaned forward into the journal and continued reading about depression.

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Murdoch Lancer known in the San Joaquin Valley as a fair, hard working, goal oriented man; was at this moment, not a happy one.

The tall rancher looked at his young wife, her hair like spun midnight, her brown eyes sparkled with wildness in them and she was angry.

She was dressed to go riding, the quirt slapped against her booted leg, her temper rising by the second as she stood only chest high to her towering husband.

Trying to be reasonable was not working, Murdoch run a hand through his dark blonde hair. Taking a deep breath he reined in his own Scottish temper and hoped he spoke softly, "Maria, all I am saying is birthing John has exhausted you; you need to rest more the boy..."

The high spirited, fast tempered Mexican whirlwind snapped, "And I say Murdoch Lancer I decide when to ride, where I ride. You may be my husband in the eyes of the Holy Church, but you do not own my soul, as for 'my' son, Juanito is taken care of properly. Why do you do this to me?"

She looked up to him with tears in her eyes, her full lips trembling, she reminded him of a wilted rose, all the life, the brilliant color gone from pulled her to him and folded her into his big embrace, "Lo Siento mi esposa, perdon mi."

Maria clasp her husbands shirt in her tiny hands, she could not understand why she wanted to hurt him one minute, then the next love him with her entire being.

She was proud to be his esposa, the mother of their Nino, but she was feeling 'empty' inside.

There was more out there than this world of Lancer and she was not to be denied. She would fight with everything she had to show this giant of a man she was her own woman.

Pulling away, she gave him one of her brilliant smiles, twisting a button on his shirt she sighed, "I need to get away for un minuto mi esposo. Juanito is with Maria he will be de acuerdo, all right."

She stepped back from him and left him standing, confused unable to stop her, smiling she slapped the quirt once more against her leg as she mounted her Palomino mare and galloped off.

Murdoch staring until she was out of sight. What had just happened, he thought to himself, one minute I was dragging her off her horse demanding she stay and care for our son and the next she is riding off to God knew where. When did he lose control that just was not like him? Hearing his son cry the big rancher moved swiftly to the hacienda within seconds the infant's cries quieted.

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The ride to Lancer was long, but it was a pleasant day, and Sam Jenkins had needed a break.

When Murdoch sent the invitation with one of his ranch hands as they picked up supplies, he jumped at the chance to eat some excellent food, which the Lancer housekeeper was famous.

Thinking of the food his stomach growled, and he flicked the reins to his horse to hurry it up. The wheels of his carriage leaving a dust trail as they sped down the road.

"Pick it up Socrates, I'll get you extra oats when we get to Lancer and you can kick up your heels in that lush green pasture." Sam laughed aloud as the horse seemed to pick up his pace; they both needed an escape from the rigors of the medical profession.

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Sam listened as his friend and his wife 'discussed' the upbringing of their son. Maria suddenly stood; John clutched in her arms, and shouted for Maria, the housekeeper, "Maria! A toda prisa, Ahora mismo!" Murdoch grabbed his son as his petite wife thrust the boy into his arms, "I have a headache, Sam it is good to have seen you again, perdonar."

Maria de Lancer flew from the room, climbed the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. Her husband, the doctor, Maria the housekeeper and even her son quietly staring where the woman had been.

John broke the silence as he began to wail, his comfort zone, as he had nestled in his mothers arms, briskly cast aside. Murdoch pressed his son to his shoulder and patted the boy's back; soon all he heard were hiccups, and soft mewling.

Once his son was comforted to the father's satisfaction, he handed the sleeping infant to his other Maria.

Maria had been a Godsend; she was John Lancer's wet nurse, nanny and surrogate mother. Smiling Maria took her 'adopted' Nino; "I will place him beside my own Manuel, Patron."

With a frown, she passed the staircase where the impropio madre had ascended to hide in her bedroom.

Murmuring she took the infant into the kitchen, Johnny had a smile on his face. Maria laughed to herself; then again, it could be gas.

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Murdoch looked at his friend, "Sam this can't be right, Maria was so happy she was going to have a baby. She was always flighty, but she had strong common sense."

Sam poured two glasses of Murdoch's imported whisky, turning to his friend the doctor smiled, "Medicinal purposes only."Murdoch took the offered 'medicine' and threw it back in one gulp. His throat burning from the liquor, he blinked his eyes and smiled, "Thanks Sam, I knew I could count on you."

Slapping a hand on his friends back the doctor laughed, "There's a cure for most everything, if we look hard enough." Growing serious the doctor motioned for the anxious husband to sit, "I've been looking over my medical journals and I may have the answer to Maria's moods..."

Sam Jenkins, doctor and friend explained to Murdoch, husband, father and friend about a term, 'depression'.

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Paul O'Brien the segundo for Lancer hit his knee with a slap of his hand as he doubled over laughing.

His patron and friend the, towering giant, no nonsense landowner and cattleman found himself running full out after a buck naked year and a half old dark haired toddler.

The family puppy running behind carrying a diaper in it's mouth, Maria the housekeeper a shirt in one hand and a pair of small pants in the other. On the patio, Maria de Lancer held a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter. She did little jumps as Johnny went one way and the patron went the other. Her Juanito was fast and as indecisive as a calf.

Finally, the patron stopped and leaned down hands on knees catching his breath, he smiled as he to him was Cipriano his foreman, a squealing, bucking, dark haired terror clutched securely in his big hands.

Johnny settled down into a more comfortable position in the strong arms of his 'tio'.

However, Cipriano was not his true blood uncle the man had come from Mexico as a drover for his father and stayed on. The dark haired, blue-eyed son of his amigo had grabbed hold of his heart and dug in.

Cipriano and his wife, Elena, were expecting their first child in just a few months. He found the constant battle his patron was having with his Nino was giving him prior knowledge of what to giggled then spotted his father, his thumb stuck in his mouth. Wide, startling blue eyes looked from his 'tio' to his Papi; Johnny knew his fate was sealed.

Cipriano stopped in front of his patron and smiled, then frowned as he saw the look on his friends face.

Johnny looked up into his Papi's face a small tear on one plump cheek. Johnny figured he would go for broke; he pulled his thumb from his mouth, turned blue soulful eyes onto his father and smiled.

Murdoch was going to tan his boy's naked behind until it turned red. Reaching out he stopped, that little tearstained face, those beseeching eyes and that radiant trusting smile. He grabbed the boy up into his own arms and cuddled the little naked body against his strong chest. He felt a pull on his arm as he looked down he found his wife had joined them. Carefully, and securely he held his son in one arm, the other he wrapped around his wife, turning, the little family walked back to the hacienda.

Gentle Maria, grabbing the diaper from the mouth of the puppy, followed behind.

Cipriano and Paul stood hands on hips watching, over the shoulder of the big rancher a small dark head popped up, blue eyes dancing, the devil's own grin in the little cherub face.

The segundo and foreman glanced at each other and laughed, the patron sure had his hands full with that one.

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Juanito was quiet as he played beside his mother; he would glance up to see her face. It was sad, or what he perceived to be sad, she looked out away from the hacienda.

Johnny stood and put his hands on his mother's knees. Mother and son had been outside on the patio, enjoying a cool breeze. The toddler was very susceptible to any mood changes or subtle body language.

"Momma," the quiet voice penetrated the haze his mother was in. Bending she picked up her Nino and held him close, he popped his thumb into his mouth and nestled his head against her shoulder; she stood and began held her son against her breast; she gently jiggled him within her arms as she hummed a Spanish lullaby.

Laying a cheek on to the top of his dark haired head, she could scent her son; he was sunshine and cool breezes. Feeling his heartbeat as her hand lay on his small back, he was love and innocence, freedom and prison. Where had that thought come from... no she loved her son they were free spirits together.

Free spirits, that is what they were and they should not be here with in these adobe walls of a prison.

As the wife of Murdoch Lancer walked and soothed her fellow prisoner she was unaware of eyes following her every 's eyes drank in the vision of his wife and son, a perfect picture of love and devotion... on the outside. He did not know about the turmoil inside.

Most of the time Maria was numb to her son, would not have anything to do with the boy, then like today, she doted on him would not let him out of her sight.

When Cipriano came to him about an incident he had witnessed, Murdoch felt gloom and uncertainty, and fury.

The Segundo had seen with his own eyes Maria de Lancer slap the child and push him to the ground, but just as quickly she picked him up and dried the tears on his the rancher confronted his wife she laughed it off, her Nino had used a very bad word, picked up from one of the vaqueros no doubt. She had reprimanded the boy, perhaps too harshly, and then all was forgiven between mother and son.

Murdoch told her she was the adult and Johnny just a small fragile child and to not let it happen again.

Maria nodded and smiled up at him, apologized for the episode then pulled him down to give him an inviting kiss. If it had not been the middle of the day he would have taken her offer wholly, he could only hold her against him and murmur 'sweet nothings' to her.

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The almost two-year-old toddler was confused and wanted to cry out to his Papi. It was dark and Momma was flying around his room grabbing his clothes and putting them in the big bag.

His eyes wide as he watched his Momma, her hair, falling across her face as she bent down to pick up something, then she would push it back and smile at him.

The smile caused big tears to fall from his eyes, this was not right, this person was not his Momma, this person looked wild like the bad cats in the barn, that when he went to pet them they hissed and ran away.

He turned his head to the doorway, where was Papi; he did not like this woman who looked like Momma, but wasn' his Momma did something that he had been punished for, she threw the bag out his bedroom window. His eyes grew big as saucers, his little mouth made an O, and he stared at this woman, shaking his head he said, "Johnny not do it." Wanting to make sure everyone knew he was not the one to blame he glanced at the doorway again, "Papi?"

Maria jerked back around, thinking she had been found out at her son's voice in the silent night.

Rushing to his crib she put a finger to her lips, "Hush Nino, we are playing a game on your Papi, so you must make no noise. Now stand up so I can reach you."

Johnny did as he was told and thrust his arms up to his Momma. She lifted him down, "You have gotten so heavy, you eat too much. Now quiet we go down stairs and out the kitchen."

Johnny clutched his baby blanket in his one hand and held it to his face, his other hand grasped by his mother. He was still not sure of this woman who was his Momma, but wasn't. If they were playing a game on his Papi where was he?

It was still dark out and he didn't like the dark, madrecita Maria said bad things were in the dark for little boys who did not stay in bed.

In the kitchen Johnny tried to dig his bare feet in to stop this woman from taking him into the dark outside, "No Momma, Papi spank Johnny if he go outside in the dark.""Silencio, Juanito, remember quiet." Johnny reluctantly allowed his Momma to pull him out the door.

He wanted to scream when large dark hands reached for him in the dark, but his Momma clamped a hand over his mouth, "No Juanito it is some one good, you will see. We go to have an adventure, mucho divertirse, you will see."

And so Johnny Lancer turned and looked back at the large hacienda glowing white in the darkness, when the moon broke from the clouds to look down on this travesty of marriage and deceit.

A soft rain was starting to fall, the sky silently crying for the lost child and the devastation of one gentle giant of a man.

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Sam Jenkins sat with his coffee cup held between his healing hands. He felt useless as a healer when his friends heart was shattered, "We'll find them Murdoch, don't give up."

The pain of the last two months was still felt by everyone on the Lancer ranch.

Hard hearted cow hands showed signs of sorrow, the dark haired whirl wind had grabbed their hearts and held on.

Madrecita cried when ever she found a toy carelessly discarded by her nino, the puppy stayed by her feet whimpering whenever she cried."Sam, why? I only want to know why," Murdoch Lancer was half the man he had been two months ago. It had been bad enough for his wife to leave him, but to take his son, his one true light in the world, unforgivable.

Sam could only give his friend a medical reason, "Depression is fickle, she might not have even known what she was doing at the time."

Murdoch looked up at the doctor, "Just say it Sam, she was crazy. Maybe I drove her to it, she was so alive, so free and I chained her. Tried to make her into something she could never be. But I will never forgive her for taking my son." The big man crumbled in front of his friend. "God what about Scott, I was going to bring him home come hell or high water," Murdoch's lips trembled he was near exhaustion, Sam knew it was a matter of time before the big Scot collapsed.

"Drink up my friend we'll talk some more later," Sam watched as the rancher swallowed the last of his coffee never knowing about the sleeping powders Maria had slipped into the cup at the doctors orders.

Cipriano was there as was Paul O'Brien, they helped the patron to his bed, with any luck his dreams would be pleasant, not laden with the thoughts of his little lost boy.

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The small dark haired, boy stood watching the carriage with his Momma pull away, a cloud of dust was all he saw.

The padre, gently turned the boy away from the departing woman and with a gentle push they headed into the mission, "Now Juanito you are going to be happy here my child. This woman who left you was your mother?"

Johnny turned in on himself, she was his Momma and not. 'She' had the same dark hair, the same brown eyes, but that was all. His Momma who carried him, hugged him, kissed his pain away was long gone, "No Padre, Momma est muerte.""So my child you have no Papa?" The priest knew a mix race child usually had no father, at least none that would own to fathering this blue eyed child.

"No Padre no Papa. I am alone."

The padre felt the pain of this handsome boy, fate would not deal well for him, perhaps God will look down and give this boy the love he so needed, "Come Juanito, we will get you some food then a bed."

The padre did not even have a last name for the boy all the woman said was, "This is Juanito, and I can not care for him any longer." He did not even know how old the boy was, he seemed to be ten or eleven if how he portrayed himself was any indication. The child's small stature made him seem to be as young a seven or eight. Ah well, every child under God's house is welcome, and so John Lancer heard the door close on his past life. He squared his shoulders, a scowl on his face and marched forward to a new life.

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She did not understand the feelings running through her head. She was free of the 'burden' of the child, but she also felt a deep hurt as if her heart would never be completely whole again.

Glancing at the man beside her in the carriage, she smiled as he took her hand. Such large hands holding her small ones, once there was another pair of strong hands which held hers and stroked the fire in her soul.

Shaking her head, that was all gone 'he' was at the long road ahead she smiled, a small smile. The hurt in her heart not yet healed, one day this would just be a memory.

A memory of lost love, of a life that should not have been,

of the deep blue eyes, the confusion, the hate, the love in them. Her Nino, she shuddered a tear in her eye, no she would not dwell on that, the child was better off without her.

She could not give him what he needed; she saw it in his gringo eyes every day, mixed in the face of his Mexican heritage.

Hanging her head, there was something wrong with her, something broken and she did not know how to fix it, it needed to be fixed or she would go loco.

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The big rancher kneed his horse to help with the round up; Sam had tried to explain why his young, beautiful wife left him. Talk of depression, of underlying problems, of a young life not ready for marriage and motherhood.

The only thing Murdoch knew was the woman had left his marriage bed, and took his son, his life with her. If she didn't love him he could figure that out; he was not the easiest man to understand... but she didn't care for their son. Some days she couldn't stand the sight of the dark haired toddler. Why take him from someone who did love him, did want him so much it hurt. Why, the only question not answered in all the fluff Sam spouted.

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The blue-eyed mixed heritage boy climbed out the window his short legs barely touching the ground outside.

Never looking back at the only place, he could remember where he had food every day and a cot to sleep on, the child at the tender age of nine turned his face to whatever fate or destiny had in store for him.

He had asked the one question nearly everyday, of the padre or the nuns, when they grew tired of it, he would kneel under Jesus on the cross and seek the answer.

Even in his nightly prayers to God, he would ask the question, why.

The question died in him, like the joy in his heart died. He was alone, but he was a survivor, he would would become more than a mestizo; he would grow to be self-sufficient, to go where he wanted, when he wanted... to call his own tune to dance.

He had been born Johnny Lancer a long time ago, he will be more. He would not give his gringo father a reason to be proud of him, he really did not care what people thought of him, and he would be his own man.

He would bury the Lancer name as he would bury his sire, looking ahead of him at the dirt road stretching before he smiled. A new life awaited him out there, he was no longer a child, his short year at the mission taught him how to read and write, right from wrong, and that all things were beautiful and innocent in the eyes of God.

He would adsorb any teaching like a sponge; he would be smart, brave and fear nothing.

He would not trust easily, his Momma taught him that, he would let no one into his heart and become competent at being solitary, not needing anyone.

Passing a building in the border town he was in, he stopped and stared at the colorful poster. It showed a matador and a bull, the man was flashy in dress he stood over the bull and his face showed no fear. The description said the man was a bullfighter from Madrid, Spain.

The young boy smiled and moved on, Madrid, it flowed over his tongue. Seeing a sign in the window of the cantina he entered, "You no longer need the sign."

The cantina owner looked down at the scruffy child, "Can you lift that barrel, chico?"Johnny smiled, he was stronger than he looked and he used that to his advantage, lesson learned.

Walking over to the barrel, which was bigger round then his own body he squatted and lifted it in his arms, "Where do you wish it senor?"

Laughing the man motioned to the corner, "What do I call you Chico?"

Looking up with his blue eyes nestled in his honey colored face, "Madrid, I am Johnny Madrid."

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Life can change in the blink of an eye, but you learn to take the good with the bad, you continue to exist.

The direction taken sometimes is not yours to choose; fate, destiny or the power of a higher being guides your steps, all you can do is dance to the tune playing in Mexico City, a beautiful raven-haired woman coos at the small child nestled in her arms.

In a big ranch in California, a man wipes the dust from his face, sitting on a high bluff he surveys all he has pored his heart into to build, for a dream.

In a dirty border town, a blue-eyed Mexican boy sweeps the last of the dirt from the floor of the little cantina, leans on his broom and stares out at nothing, one day he will have it all.

In Boston, far from the untamed west, a young man finishes his lessons for the day. Blond hair pushed back with a delicate hand he pulls a book from the top of a stack of books.

With a sigh his thoughts drifted to places his grandfather told him was 'foolish nonsense'. Opening the big book to a page titled, California, he is absorbed in his reading of vast open land and unruly citizens and he dreamed of one day visiting California and a father he desired to know.

The End.

or

Not!


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